Fifty Odd Words No. 4

So, what, they don't get on?

Oh they get on fine; they don't talk.

Internal politics then.

No.

So what's the matter?

Nothing.

But they don’t talk.

And?

They must have problems.

People who do talk can have problems.

That’s not the same.

Fifty Odd Words No.3

You should be flying in an aeroplane, throwing stones at mountains, trying to knock them down. In an old Sopwith Camel, I reckon; painted with rust on sunburst yellow. Your dandy hair will beat in the wind, a bit like a flag, only more violent.

Fifty Odd Words No.2

Is it a bit like removing a toe nail and taking too much off?

Not really. More like eating chillies raw and still wanting more.

Hmm. Sounds painful.

It is.

Do you think you'll ever love again?

I want to, but I hope not.

Fifty odd words

I realise now that what I should have done is cut my own palm – created my own fate. The truth is, I still could: it would not be hard. The flick of a razor. But then I am not sure I want to, not this far into the game.

...

There isn't much to imagination: a series of thoughts maybe, a flash in the pan definitely.


I think I'll travel a lot this summer. Been desperate to do something for too long now.

The Cult of Done

I write a lot of ghosts.

Cafe

This is a transitory place, there is a sheen to the floor and a rigid, uniform comfort to the furniture. Inoffensive local radio seeps into your hearing and old songs - those ones you recognise with unmistakeable hooks - loop with rapid frequency. The extractor fan hums. Oil sizzles. The crisp sound of a newspaper page turning hiccups between loud sips. One man circles with a Biro in apparent random bursts. His face is studious and furrowed. His lips pursed and vision narrowed.

Scarlett buses lurch and roll. White vans - with their blank, identical canvasses - form a train.
Very few people sit, most are passengers in time, carried through by a need to progress.

Take the idea that life is transitory: we are passengers in time. The places we inhabit are clean, clear open spaces. Blank canvasses at all times Because we move on so much, never really staying in any one place. The current theme is to build from glass - open structures made of light. We decorate in white and magnolia: pastel shades. Borders are soft, lines undefined.
The natural order is to descend into chaos. Entropy increases.

I scribbled this down when I was in a cafe by the tube station in Turnpike Lane. I like cafes: you can sit there, drinking coffee and eating a bacon sandwich while watching everything float past. It got me thinking about transience. (Note: in my notebook, I couldn't tell if I had written 'clear' or 'clean'. But then I realised: aren't they just the same thing? So I put both in.) Also, Warren Ellis talked about this idea in his graphic novel Desolation Jones. He referred to it as Supermodernism; I have never been able to find any other reference to it.

On the subject of transience, I made this slow/rapid (I can't remember which) half formed thought while sitting on the back steps behind my house:

One of Paul Pope's essays struck a personal chord with me recently. It discussed, in the most part, Hugo Pratt's "Corto Maltese" and some of the devices he used to portray that character. At one point he flashed upon the idea that life is a transitory thing, but that we attempt to make it static and unchanging for fear of that very thing.

That resonated with me as I was stumbling, and attempting to run, with a short story weaved around that very same idea.

I've made extensive notes on that story, took a break from it, and returned to it today. It feels like it might finally be coming back together.

This will be a line in it (sort of).

"Isn't it funny how, in the English Language, the phrase 'fair weather' has a similar meaning to insubstantial? I think that says a lot about us as a people."

Things I like that Go Together No.3

[clicking beer bottles together] Waaaarrrrrriiiorsss, come out to pla-ay!

This is one of the greatest cult films of the late seventies. Everything from the brooding music to the driven themes of a violent underworld add up to a dark film that isboth quotable and memorable despite the obvious low cost production.



There are at least three films that immediately spring to mind due to a shared stylistic and photographic approach: Assault on Precinct Thirteen, Escape From New York and The Thing, which are of course all John Carpenter films. The Thing manages to mainatin the same feel as the other films, even though it had a much higher budget. A good sign, then, that success does not necessarily compromise artistic merit.





Hugh Jackman owes his career to this man. Can you dig it?

I would also reccomend checking out this blog to see the portrait of Luther from The Warriors, shown at the top. Some excellent artwork.